


Second Thoughts, Second Chances: Bonus Chapters

by PreciousRichard



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, LOTS of tags to be added, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Nudity, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prostate Massage, Smut, like just all smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9867137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreciousRichard/pseuds/PreciousRichard
Summary: A compilation of bonus chapters that add or extend upon the NSFW themes of Second Thoughts, Second Chances.You won't be missing anything vital if you don't read these, they're just my self-indulgent smutty additions to the main story!





	1. Chapter 6A

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter takes place immediately following the events of Chapter 6.
> 
> Spy can control himself just fine on the outside, but when he's alone there's only so much he can take.

Deep in the living section of the BLU base, Spy slipped past everybody he crossed on his way to his quarters. Invisible while cloaked, he dodged a bouncing pyro wearing a rubber glove on their head, and a flustered engineer who chased after them. He narrowly slipped by the demo in a doorway who argued with the sniper over a game of rummy and how it in fact did not involve any actual rum. He'd made it to his room seemingly undetected by his preoccupied teammates, and once he'd made it he was home free. He sighed; exhausted by the day's events and the pathological roller coaster of emotions he'd sat through. Now he was secure in his spacious quarters, all royal blue wall paper and polished baroque furnishings. At least now he would be able to do as he pleased. He slipped from his suit jacket and gloves, and stretched in his vest before slipping away to wash up. He rinsed out his tired eyes and looked at himself in the mirror, glancing over his lips, and their still gently swollen, pinkish state. The world became a bit hazier around him as he lived through the preceding moments between himself and the RED sniper again in his mind. He looked down at his bare hand when he turned the faucet off, and contemplated his palm.

Next thing he knew he was back in his dark room, locking all three locks on his door and stripping his vest and shoes. He unbuttoned his shirt hastily and slipped it from his arms, tossing everything neatly across an ornate chair in the corner. He pulled his undershirt up over his head last, tossing it with the rest of his outer layers. Now with his torso exposed to the cool air of his private chambers, he unbuttoned his pants as he approached his lavish bedside. He sank into the blue sheets and slipped his pants off, throwing them to the foot of the bed and leaning back into the plush duvet. He propped himself up on his arm, wearing nothing but his mask, his watch, his black socks with their garters, and his silk underpants.

He breathed, pupils wide with thoughts of Sniper's heated body under his firm touch. The curve of the Aussie's inner thighs flowered in his mind, and that quaint shocked sound from his lungs when he sank to the floor in overheated sensation. Immediately Spy was pulling down his underwear and gripping his wanting dick in his fist. He rolled the head in his palm once- maybe twice with a soft sigh, gentle waves of pleasure lapping at his pelvis as he did so. He began to stroke the soft skin idly, slowly, and pictured the other man all the while. Subtle tensions occasionally pulled his palm up to rub at the tip, always returning to his strokes as his muscles began to tremble now and then, rousing and coiling inside him. He hadn't done this since he'd kissed the sniper behind the restaurant in a display of passion. Those wet, vulnerable eyes back then- he'd never expected to see them.

He tugged at his hot flesh, but paused to rub at his cheek with his knuckle, his member now standing at attention on its own between his legs. He sighed again, feeling warmer, and shifting his weight to reach into his bedside drawer and take out a small tub of petroleum jelly. He rubbed a portion into his hand with parted, wet lips, and set the rest aside to lean back into the mattress. He closed his eyes, and nothing around him might as well have existed as his hand took the form of Sniper's in his mind's eye. Palm up, and focused on the end of his length, he gripped himself and began stroking again. The slickness pulled a quiet moan from his chest, and the sensations rocked his hips as he grew harder under his own touch. He spread his legs wider, underwear going taut around his thighs. He brushed his fingers over the nubs of his nipples, every motion mimicking what he imagined Sniper’s quizzical, nervous exploration of his body would be. His palm would release and flip and stroke facing down, then release again and return to facing up. He pleasured himself, concentrating on seeing the man he saw just minutes ago as vividly and as nakedly as he could. His pelvis convulsed finally, and he thrust up into his grip as the excitement reached the next level of intensity.

He gripped firmer, stroking and twisting his fingers around the tender underside of the head of his cock. He thumbed at the wetness of the tip, muscles twitching and ass gently rolling up from the covers. He lost himself soon, as waves overtook him. He fell back into the duvet, free arm coming up to rest across his turned face as he choked back moans to himself. He panted, hearing Sniper's deep, rough voice calling him by name, urging him, and begging him wordlessly.

 _Sniper_ , he thought, nipping at his lip,  _Oh Sniper, yes..._  He stroked faster, nearly thrusting into his hand. He reached down to tug gently on his sack with his free fingers, indulging the tip as he rolled his thumb across the tender flesh at the base.  _Oh oui, oh mon dieu..._  He was close, his fantasy drawing nearer to conclusion.

His stomach and thighs twitched now, his hand trembled rigidly as he slid the left up to dig into his thigh, and then hip. He swallowed back as many of his deep, hoarse groans as he could; he was beginning to shake with the devastation of nearing orgasm. He arched back, the steep curve of sensation and electricity reaching its peak, and his pelvis bounced, thrusting hard into his quick solid pumping at the end of his length. He groaned, cloudy eyed and red faced, with the thought of Sniper before him as he pulled spurts of hot white cum from himself. He milked the drops as they landed across his belly, his thighs and ass went tense as he came. The debilitating heat and exhilarating fall from the cliff of orgasmic pleasure rocked him fully, and all to the imaginary tune of the Australian sharpshooter who had finally agreed to be his lover. 

His heart swelled at the thoughts of his kisses, someday along his neck and collar as he shook through the tapering of his ecstasy. It had been particularly intense, and he rolled his hips into his now gentle grip, sighing as every part of him grew limp. He lay still, hand resting hotly on his stomach until his heavy breathing slowed.

Clarity came upon him quickly enough, and he grunted as he stood to wipe himself down. But as he went about cleaning his pale skin, he became painfully aware of the solitude of his room. He was alone, indulging in himself and his made up version of Sniper. He sighed, feeling unsure of just how long he could sustain on self-stimulation alone now that he'd dipped his toes into a deep well of opportunity. He contemplated just how long it would be until Sniper indulged him this way, and grew frustrated at the question of whether he'd be willing to at all.

Spy held himself gently by the neck and waist as he sat back down on his bed, cleaned and alone. He was impatient, but happy no doubt, to have more of that man than he ever thought he would. He huffed amusedly as he recalled his initial intentions of merely getting the Aussie drunk as hell and stealing occasional kisses from him, and perhaps fellatio in time if he was careful. But he shook off the thoughts; he would never have to be so underhanded to touch the one he desired now that he was willing to be touched. He turned to face the empty side of the mattress that he never laid on, and imagined the peaceful face of a sleeping RED sniper tucked into it. A smile tugged at his lips, and he figured he could wait a little longer.


	2. Chapter 7A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bonus chapter takes place at the end of **chapter 7.**
> 
> Following the events that took place in Spy's car, Sniper comes back to his camper feeling hot and heavy, and a little adventurous.

It wouldn't be fair. Sniper locked the camper door behind him in the dark, but he didn't bother turning on the lights over his head. He wasn't able to shake the heat that fought to consume his entire body since the BLU spy had pounced on him less than twenty minutes ago. It wouldn't be right of him to do this after denying him the way he had. It wouldn't be fair after seeing the way it crushed him; after making Spy wait out of senseless fear of the unknown. But oh God it was too much, his hand was already slinking downward and he hadn't even taken off his hat.

He unbuttoned his pants, the brown fabric coming loose and releasing the gentle bulge that pushed against his y-front briefs. What a mess he was, coming apart at a hungry tongue in his mouth and wet kisses on his tender collarbone. He'd never thought of himself as this easy, but then again he'd never been so passionately attacked by another man.

He cursed, and slipped his tinted sunglasses from his nose, tossing them aside along with his hat and argyle sweater vest. He cursed again while he struggled to slip out of his shoes as he walked toward the bed. He was shaking, he was a battle worn hired killer and he was shaking. It thrilled him, excitement prickling at every nerve, hands trembling as they gripped the ladder, calves shuddering as he climbed into the nook overhead. He sighed, the heat pooling and surging downward the more he realized that this was happening, that he was going to do this.

It wasn't like him to do it this way. When arousal struck him, as it regularly did, he sorted it out mechanically, relying on the sensation alone to bring him to the conclusion. But that's all it had ever been, an unavoidable function that he resolved like he would an aching joint. He had been content never fantasizing. He had forced himself not to when he'd decided he was better off alone in the bush. Sex thereby could never haunt him there. 

But now he was rubbing at his sensitive flesh through his underwear, thinking of the spy and losing himself because of him. It was terrifying, shameless, and so fucking good. He mouthed guilty apologies under his breath to an absent Spy who was made to be alone as Sniper pleasured his own body. He found his mind was beyond his control now, and all the deplorable filthy images from his most carnal inner self were being released with every stroke of his fingers. Every filthy thought of Spy he'd pushed away was at once allowed to live. He tugged at the outline of his rigid cock beneath the fabric as he laid back. He didn't care that his pants were now bunched around his ankles, or that he'd probably end up cumming on his shirt. All he wanted was to push aside his inhibitions for the first time in ages and actually, really, honestly, truly indulge in his masturbation. He'd forgotten how good it could be when he imagined, when those nimble gloveless fingers and prominent joints hotly touched at his cock and balls in his mind. He closed his eyes, feeling at his neck in all the places Spy had lapped and nipped like a pleading beast. He shivered, reliving the feeling of being pinned down by a gentleman who hid the brewing force of an animal in heat under his pompous front.

Sniper likened it to the times he'd seen animals pin each other down to mate, howling and squirming with primal ravenous desires. He bit down hard into his lip and slipped his hand past the waistband. The head of his cock was dripping, and it pulsed under his touch. He gasped, his own body surprising him with the extent of his arousal. This was Spy’s doing. This was what that deplorable, sneaky, handsome, considerate charmer of a gentleman did to him.

“ _Oh fuck…”_  He groaned at the slippery feel of excess wetness.

Smearing the precum over his fingers, he slathered it further down his stiff cock to lubricate his grip. This was damning. He now knew he was destined to be ridiculously overstimulated by the Frenchman when the time came. He wouldn't last five minutes like this. He’d probably cum in his pants if Spy was really there. But he reasoned that he didn’t really care if it would always be this gratifying. Even through the subtle embarrassment in coming undone the way he was, he could feel himself twitch, growing ever harder under the lasting memory of Spy's touch on his skin.

Lecherous ideas came and went as he lost control of his fantasies. He pumped his slick shaft to the thought of mounting Spy and pushing inside him, then letting it fade as he realized he was unsure of just how to imagine the feeling. Curiously he rolled to his front, panting as he imagined the role reversed, with Spy's broad lean body overpowering him and pushing him down. Sniper had his reservations about having something as intimidating as Spy’s rock hard dick inside a hole as tight and inexperienced as his own, but his eyes grew blurry as he became courageous enough to venture there with his hand. It was all so much, so good, what was the harm in trying? He pulled his underwear to his knees, ass bare and spread in the air.

He pushed his fingers down the cleft of his ass, wiggling them through curly dark hairs. He moaned at the previously withheld sexual touches to his ring of tight puckered muscles. He pumped his weeping cock harder while shakily pushing a digit inward, but found the intrusion unpleasant and dry. Desperately he shoved his middle finger into his panting mouth, slathering it in sticky saliva until it was dripping with the liquid. He reached back again, cool wetness making him squirm and hum as he made contact. He pushed in, finger slipping into his backside only to the first knuckle before he realized spit was less than adequate for what he sought. 

It had to feel good somehow, he thought, all those fortunate enough to know the experience couldn’t be lying. But with as far as he could reach, it was only a strange intruding feeling, made stimulating in that it was perversely scandalous and excitingly new. He resentfully gave up when he could push no further without the proper lubrication, but despite his failure, the curiosity remained. His fantasies instead filled the space again like a fluid. Spy's hands, Spy's tongue, Spy's teeth and heat all flooded every empty space of his being. He envisioned Spy's well sculpted ass, likely firmed from all their daily running. He imagined gripping it, digging fingers into the flesh as the Frenchman lay back, tasting his cock with his tongue as he did.

Sniper was cumming so suddenly he shocked himself, gasping as his eyes screwed shut. Every muscle tensed as he pushed his face into the pillows and orgasm took hold. He squeezed around his shaft, pulling and tugging as thick semen erupted from the slit of his cock and landed on his sheets. He was too lost to care, his hips jerked into his fist and he moaned louder than he ever remembered moaning before. He thought of Spy watching him, of hearing his vulnerability and witnessing him fall apart and grip at the fabric of his bedding. The electric shooting through his body and dick shook him to the point of collapse, and he dropped to the bed on his stomach, groaning into his pillow.

He felt amazing. He felt liberated and dirty and hot. All he could describe it with was good, so bloody good. He felt so bloody fucking good. When he came back down from his sparkling high the first feeling to dawn on him was the sweat on his shirt under his arms. He quickly remembered he was lying in his own seed. He reeled back making a sound of shocked disgust, but his body was loose and weak, so he merely rolled to his side to escape the inevitable stains. He looked down at the white wet spots pressed into his red shirt and rolled his eyes. He'd have to wash everything now, but it was a small price to pay for the best climax he'd achieved for himself in far too long. He rolled further aside to his back and pressed the bend of his elbow into his eyes, panting quietly and letting the buzz of his body run its course.

Sometime later, the guilt returned to him while he tried to sleep on freshly changed sheets. He really did wish Spy hadn’t been so drunk, maybe the two of them wouldn’t have been in bed alone tonight if that had been the case. He wondered how it must feel to hold Spy’s warm body beside him in the dark. He didn’t think it’d be too bad, and when he bashfully pulled a spare pillow into his arms he admitted it would actually be pretty damn nice. He didn’t know what was happening to him lately, but no number of kills or years of war could keep it from feeling nostalgic and right.

He found a soft confidence growing deep in his chest, that he could learn how to nail this whole relationship thing. He’d man up and face the unknown. He’d bounce back from his mistakes as long as the spy was willing to forgive them. Whatever the task, he’d do his damnedest to satisfy that fussy bugger in bed. If he set his mind to it, he could even be the best bloody lover Spy had ever had… Alright, maybe that one was a stretch.

 


	3. Chapter 9A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the highly NSFW sex scene omitted from **chapter 9.**
> 
> 8000 words of Sniper/Spy smut, enjoy.

“Fair warning-” Sniper panted, his arm coming to rest across his forehead as he let Spy proceed as he liked. “I’m no expert at this.”

Spy looked up at him from kissing sweetly at his navel and gave a knowing smirk. “If I was the first man you’ve kissed, I expect I’m the first man you’ve slept with.” He said, and Sniper felt immediately that his face was burning red. The marksman was grateful the lights were out when the spy pawed lower with his hands, provoking his lower body to stir. “And by this reaction it’s safe to assume you like it.”

“Oh piss off.” The sniper sputtered, covering his eyes, and Spy chuckled back.

Spy was palming gently between the sniper's legs, excitedly feeling out the shape of the firming bulge there. It was more than enough confirmation for the spy that everything was as it should be, and he was free to proceed at his leisure. Sniper's bare chest twitched with the pressures of silenced sounds trying to escape, and his body rigidly shifted as if seeking out more contact. Spy bowed, kissing the lying man's naval before laving a wet tongue up the light trail of hair. He was nestled in between the other's thighs, the sniper's bent knees closing together a little more around him with every increasingly aggressive touch to his clothed nether regions. Spy drank in the pressure, the squeeze of the Aussie's legs, the tremble of his stomach, the toss of his head as he experienced the first electrifying meetings of bodies. It was damn near perfect, but the stubborn Australian was still resisting his own voice, choking it down and practically taunting the Frenchman to force the honesty from his vocal cords. 

Sniper was losing it already, just like he thought he would. He hadn't been touched in so long, and the only company he'd known in years was his own hand. He'd forgotten what it was like to feel foreign fingers on him this way. And for the first time in his life, a man was between his legs, happily toying with his groin, and oh god- unzipping his fly. He shouldn't moan, Australian men didn't moan, but Spy wasn't making it easy. When Spy edged up and latched to his nipple with his mouth, and when his hand slipped under his pants to feel him through his underwear, Sniper felt his whole body give and keen. He gasped, the suction on the dark nubs of his nipples was something completely new, and when teeth began pressing into them he simply had to stop himself. He made a grab for the other's free hand that had been roaming his chest. If he didn’t catch himself now things would end embarrassingly.

"I shouldn't get all the attention." Sniper whispered, denying himself much volume lest his weakened voice betray him.

"Oh?" Spy blinked, easing back as Sniper rose to sit up. "Then kindly indulge me."

Spy smiled, and it was a perverted, puckered thing. It seemed his sensitive, yielding sniper was braver than he looked. The masked man pushed away the open shirt still draped over Sniper's shoulders as the marksman worked carefully to free the last few buttons holding Spy's clothing together. There was a hint of surprise in the spy's expression when the other began unbuckling his belt with only one hand while using the other to push away the opened undershirt. 

"You're certain you've never done this before?" Spy questioned, eyebrow cocking suspiciously at the lack of fumbling fingers.

"Not with a... Man, no." Sniper replied as they both slipped free of their upper clothes.

The heat in Sniper's cheeks was blurring his eyes. It was hard enough to see in the low lighting. But, when he blinked the fog away he found his hands slowing to a halt. He could practically hear Spy's smug thoughts when the sniper ate up a good long look at the expanse of bare skin. It was pale and pulled tightly over strong shoulders and chest, but soft at his middle, almost pudgy. A light patch of hair, light brown by the look of it, nestled between the pectorals but lacked a downward trail. Sniper's hands began roaming without his awareness, and before he knew it they were eagerly stroking up and down the expanse of his torso. He felt the bumps of occasional scars pass beneath his touch, and the Frenchman chuckled proudly at Sniper's slow and interested digits.

"A man indeed." Spy mused, pulling the other's hands to splay over the firm curve of his chest. "Go on Bushman, don't be shy." He hummed as those palms and fingers hesitantly took the invitation.

Sniper swallowed, he could feel his own pulse in a lot of places now. "I can do anything?" He rasped, immediately regretting looking into the spy's predatory gaze directly.

"As long as it involves touching me, yes." The spy smirked. His eyes were already black with lust, and the skin showing from beneath his mask was stained pink.

He breathed a shaky sigh, "Right." The Aussie mumbled, the greed on the other man's expression sent a searing thrill into his belly.

Already the marksman had learned something new. Unbeknownst to him, toying with nipples could feel really, really good- at least when someone else was in control. He licked his lips, eyeing the petite spots of dark skin on Spy's chest. He knew it was a good sign when his tongue flicking over them drew a pleasant sound from the Spy. Oh Sniper did love when the man purred. Emboldened, he pressed lips to flesh and sucked, working the other stub between his fingers. He leaned forward when Spy started leaning back, and the masked man's throaty coos made Sniper all the bolder. He released the wet skin between his teeth and tongue, a thread of saliva stretching from chest to lip, and shifted to lap at the other.

Sniper's mouthy barrage was pushing Spy further down into the covers. And while the spy had no qualms with the tenacity of his effort, there was something competitive burning inside him, itching for control over his saucy little Bushman. He dug fingers into the man's hair and pulled, drawing an airy grunt as Sniper popped off the tender areola he was favoring. Spy shifted, positioning himself to straddle the marksman's thigh, and pushed his knee up, up into the wedge between the other's legs. He smiled wickedly at the moan it wrenched from Sniper's mouth.

Sniper felt red, he'd failed in his own efforts not to whine. There was no possible way for him to help it, the sweet pressure against his already hardened member was so much more than he could have known it’d be. He could do nothing besides bury his flustered face into the crook of Spy's shoulder. He was foolish to think he would be able to keep himself collected tonight, but the sultry sound Spy made back at him was something to behold. He guessed then, that the rules were different on a playing field like this one, with a competitor like Spy.

The spy ground himself into Sniper's thigh, rubbing his urgent arousal, feeling it growing beneath the front rise of his blue pants. He responded to every sound his goading knee drew up from the Aussie's lungs. He urged on and called back to every escaping ring of pleasure, verbally prompting the other to relax in the most primitive, wordless way. Gradually it worked, and as the masked assassin slid his fingers under the waist of the sniper’s slacks and into the flesh of his ass, the sounds sharpened and amplified into his collarbone. 

Sniper caved, he couldn't keep down the powerful moan that burst from his chest at the squeeze of his backside. He'd never been so thrilled by raw contact, and he'd never experienced something so right. All he could do was cling to Spy's back with his nails and churn his entire body forward, nudging his forehead hard into the muscle of Spy's shoulder. There were no courses of action to be seen in the dense white behind his eyelids. His mind might as well have been filled with the smoke of Spy's fancy cigarettes. Fuck it, he was lost and blank and felt so incredibly good. And when the sniper suddenly found himself on his back, his pants being pulled from his legs, he decided there was no use or reason in hiding something as arbitrary as his voice.

"Touch me." Spy mumbled against the other's ear, hands busily pulling down his own pants. It appeared he'd effectively stripped the both of them of everything but their underwear while Sniper was still getting his bearings.

The panting sniper moved his hands. He feverishly felt about against the Spy's chest and sides, brushing up against stiff nipples and twitching tendons. The sight of their mutual, almost total nudity was enough to steal the air from Sniper's lungs even in the darkness. But it was the tent in Spy's underpants hovering over his own clothed erection that sent the sensation of a hot iron into his loins. In that moment he could hear one loud, clear thought in his head, and it was that he absolutely needed their cocks to touch right there in that negative space. Thus, he braced himself and surged upward at the hips. Their bulges pressed together, slipped past one another and rubbing slow and hard.

Spy's eyes screwed shut, Sniper's hips were pressing into him, kneading their dicks together as he pulled the spy down by the waist and oh it was heavenly. He uttered a breathy moan and with closed eyes could hear the sniper respond adamantly with a delectable groan. Spy rubbed back, hips rolling and lips kissing the muscles rippling at the sniper's neck. Hands diving down again, Spy gripped the Aussie's backside swaying in the air. He drank Sniper's groan as he squeezed with strong fingers, slipping them under the fabric of the underwear to squeeze at bare flesh. He pushed and pulled, bringing their groins even closer while the marksman's head lulled back, throat taut and bobbing delicately, vulnerably. Spy hissed happily as Sniper's excitement forced his back up higher from the bed, pressing their abdomens flush against each other. 

"Good, isn't it?" Spy hummed, tone embodying the experienced, albeit out of practice self control he exuded. 

Sniper swallowed, heaving breaths from both arousal and effort. "Yeah..." He managed to wheeze, cringing only briefly at the feebleness of his voice.

"Move beau, against the pillows." Spy murmured into his skin, helping the other up by the arms once he’d settled down.

Sniper nodded, crawling past the spy to press against the cushions of down feathers and soft fabric. He said nothing, and let the spy encircle him with his arms to press their foreheads together. It was getting easier for the marksman to accept that Spy was taking lead in this bedroom dance. It only made sense, he figured, even if it made him feel somewhat useless.

Gaze half-lidded, Spy could picture himself painting a portrait dedicated solely to the look of trust coming from Sniper's eyes. It reminded him to act in steps, slow and certain. He couldn't deny his yearning to take everything, but it was no match for his affection for the nervous kangaroo of a man awkwardly stirring under him. The orange candlelight made clearer the details of the Australian's physique. Strong arms, but a soft middle that Spy reasoned was from his inexplicit love of beer. There were marks, scars below his shoulder that lined up in perfect rows. They were the remnants of some horrible animal's claws, and he noted to ask about it later. For the time being, he was satisfied with his analysis, finding every aspect alluring and wholly personal to the taciturn gunman. He kissed a lazy line down the man's chest, down his ribs, and down the give of his abdomen. The sniper's hands stroked over skin and mask until the spy was out of reach, on his knees between the man's lax thighs.

Spy was watching him, Sniper could see the glint of flame reflecting off his cutting blue eyes. But rather than stabbing through him like infuriatingly aware knives, they were slicing hot and slow lines all along his body. Like the invigorating brush of a blunted dagger's edge, daring to cut, they left shudders in their wake when traced against him. Those eyes remained fixed on his own as the other lowered himself, face close enough to his member that the puffs of hot air from his mouth made him twitch. He bit his lip as the spy kissed his hip bone, then the crease of his pelvis, and finally the waistband of the underwear he was now hooking into with languid fingers. Sniper held his breath when at last Spy looked down, eyeing what he aimed to reveal. He pulled on the elastic, and Sniper thighs went tense as the tip of his cock was pulled downward with Spy's eager effort to strip him, slowly revealing the shaft and thick hairs that curled there until at last the entire length sprung free, standing to life. The way the spy smiled at it made it flinch, and with visible excitement Spy slid the underwear from his legs and flicked it away into the dark.

Spy slid back into position, bent down on his hands and knees, face obscured to the Sniper by his erection. "Impressive." He whispered hotly against sensitive skin.

The other was drawing his shoulders up to see more of the Spy, craning his neck. "You... Think so?" He panted, heat spreading across his chest.

"I do." Spy grinned, dark eyed as he traced a finger up the ridge of the underside.

The Frenchman was more than pleased with the member, it was just right, and fit well into his hand when he grabbed hold. Sniper groaned in his throat when that hand began to move, and Spy could now be certain every part of the bushman was to his taste. Now, he very much needed to taste for himself. He dragged his tongue, flat and wide up the underside, and the sniper jerked in his grasp. And when Spy tested the thicker flavor of his frenulum he curled in his toes. It was only when Spy opened wide and eased the end into his mouth that the sniper began to moan with open mouth.

"Shite... Spy-" Sniper choked out, the heat consuming the rosy tip of his cock driving his hands to grip the sheets. 

Spy only moaned back at him, tongue working saliva across pulsating skin as his slid lower and lower. Sniper couldn't believe the indescribable delight. He'd been sucked like this once before, but it lacked any of the energy or appeal this moment did. It wasn't just because a man had him in his mouth this time, but Spy, the most dignified and haughty man he'd ever met was ardently sucking his cock. As if the sensations weren't enough, that thought alone was driving him up a pleasurable wall. Spy was sinking lower, and lower, and at some point Sniper thought he ought to be reaching capacity. The second after his eyes were going wide at the Spy's attempt to swallow him whole.

"Oof... Spy..." He grunted, hips squirming, not entirely sure what else to say.

But the other merely stilled and locked eyes with him. Sniper heart skipped, and his dick throbbed in the man's mouth. He swore that if Spy's lips hadn't been busy wrapped around his dick, he would be grinning in the smuggest way. There was a beat, and then Spy sighed through his nose and let his eyes flutter before sinking impossibly further. Sniper only had time to gasp at the sight before Spy had every last centimeter of his length in him. Then he hummed. And Sniper cried out. The head of his erection was inside of Spy's throat and he could feel it. The muscles, the heat, and the vibration punched his hips up from the mattress. Spy's eyes went just a little wide at the sudden thrust, and he made a surprised sound before pressing his thumbs heavily into the sniper's hips and pinning him back down. Sniper had just enough clarity to understand he was probably strangling the man with his cock. He didn't know if he was more concerned or aroused by the idea. By now Sniper had given up all conscious self criticism of the sounds coming from his person. If Spy could mewl and cry, so could he, and holy dooley did he when the man’s esophagus tightened around him. Without his command, Sniper's hand reached out to touch at the smooth fabric of the Frenchman's mask. He wanted to hold Spy down there like that forever, but killing the man was his job, not his kink.

Spy was humming, carefully controlling his muscles, and feeling filled to the brim with skin. He lavished with his tongue as he rose up for a breath, tasting the very clean yet somewhat uniquely heady, almost tangy taste of the other's arousal. He bobbed, and Sniper arched, and the hips under his fingers struggled, and again he slid downward. There was something so gratifying about the feel of short curly hairs against his nose. There was something even more satisfying about at last having the one he'd chased for so long enjoying every second in his mouth, and still being able to fit him down his throat after years of being out of practice. There was nothing quite like the power of dictating a writhing man's every movement with something as simple as a twist of the head, or a flick of the tongue.

"Spy- Spy, I... Fuck!" Sniper groaned, his thighs going stiff around the other.

Spy hurried to release the poor begging marksman's cock from his esophagus, the way it shifted against his muscles and the needy, vulgar, wonderful cry were enough flags. Spy wanted to taste it when he came. Nothing else in that moment felt like it mattered as much as getting a taste of Sniper's most intimate, rewarding release. He continued his onslaught, bobbing with watery eyes and haggard breathing for just a few seconds longer before the hand on the back of his head was digging nails into the mask, and holding him firmly in place. Interest flickered across Spy’s fully blackened irises at the spasm overtaking his lover. Head tossed back, mouth agape, eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed, his cock pulsed again and again against Spy's tongue. Hot and thick liquid burst from it then in throbs, the bitterness spreading on his taste buds. He swallowed it, all of it. When the orgasm slowly released the Aussie's tightened body, and the last pulsations tapered off, Spy lifted away, watching the hand that had so desperately held on to his blue mask fall away limply to the bed. At last Spy relinquished, casting a victorious glance at the softening member before crawling overtop the other's heaving body.

Sniper groaned, turning his head to look up at a hovering Frenchman licking his chops. He couldn't think of something to say, he was floored. Sapped of energy, he lazily kissed back when Spy came down for a snog, tongue pushing inside and making the marksman furrow. It tasted different than before, a bit on the salty side, and that was when the sniper's eyes snapped open. When Spy pulled back, Sniper was gawking at him, and the masked man tilted his head with an imploring smile.

"You swallowed that?" Sniper exclaimed.

"Hm?" Spy asked, feigning innocence, "Oh that. I did."

“Why?" Sniper floundered.

"Because I can." 

"That's... Downright filthy..." Sniper rasped, sounding surprisingly enticed rather than disgusted. 

"You say that like it is a bad thing." 

"It ain't!" Sniper corrected, chest still heaving. "Holy Dooley. Holy bloody hell..." He reached up with his wrist to wipe away the sweat on his forehead.

"I see you liked my performance."

"That's a hell of a talent ya have." Sniper huffed. "I've never- felt so...."

"Good?" Spy chimed in hungrily.

"Yeah... Really good..."

Making himself comfortable nearby, the spy seemed to be politely waiting for the sniper to catch his breath. Sniper heaved, the effects of his orgasm and the rosy afterglow drew him up from the pillows and closer to the resting Frenchman. A kiss to the brow made Spy look up at him, and he took the movement as access to peck the other bits of exposed skin. He caught a glimpse of a dark lock of hair peaking just ever so slightly from the blue fabric at the man's temple, and while he didn't say a word, he breathlessly committed it to memory. _Brown hair, long enough to hang down._

Despite his ability to seem like one, Spy was not in fact a patient man. Every nerve in his body was on fire. His cock was swollen between his legs, nearly weeping after everything he'd just been so very lucky enough to experience. As sweet as they were, no amount of tender kisses in the world would bring him relief from that ravenous lust. He churned his hips up against the man's leg, and Sniper looked down at the firm heat he felt with realization. Spy took his hand, and Sniper allowed him to guide it down, against his chest, his stomach, and the hard bulge under his underwear.

Sniper swallowed, and the eye contact he made with the Frenchman was enough to get them moving. They shuffled, all limbs and grunts and grasping hands working to reverse positions. The marksman pushed Spy down into the sheets, and while his stare was intense, he really had no idea how to go about pleasing the man. He tensed, and reached for the spy's tightened undergarment, acting on the impulses coming from his own loins. Spy didn't seem to mind the hastiness, and rolled his hips as Sniper's fingers stripped away the fabric. He paused at his thighs, once Spy's erection had been freed. Somehow, despite whatever he'd unconsciously assumed, Spy was definitely larger than he was. He heard the other chuckle, and went red realizing he'd been staring a while. He couldn't help but admire the first ever cock he was fully allowed to have his way with. 

"Like what you see, Bushman?" Spy smiled, propping himself to sit up higher into the pillows.

"I ain’t gonna lie… It… Looks real good." He fumbled, his face was hot, and a clear bead of precum forming at the tip sent fire back into his groin. "Just wonderin'... Who'll be shaggin' who...?" He finally asked.

Spy only chortled, "I question how ready you are for that."

Sniper furrowed, "How bloody else does sex work?"

"We're having it right now in case you did not notice."

"We are?"

Spy rolled his eyes, "Yes. Or are you telling me you did not just climax down my throat?"

Sniper fidgeted, it made sense he supposed, they were both naked and in bed. Really he didn't mind avoiding the mysterious process of fitting big things into small holes, for the time being. But something about the gleam of Spy's rigid erection right there in reach carried a pulse to his anus. It was a bizarre sensation, and brought back the hazy memories of his tipsy self-exploration with curious fingers alone in his van. He didn't know if it would feel good to have something large inside himself, but deep down he really, really hoped it would. For the time being, the other man deserved the best Sniper had to offer after a blow job that good. Hands reaching carefully, he touched at the tip, it was hot and wet, and Spy hummed to urge him on. He rubbed the slickness around with his finger, then thumb as he wrapped his palm around the shaft. Spy's hums melted into moans, and Sniper looked up to find he was dreamily fixated on watching the Aussie's hand touch him. 

"Feel good?" Sniper mumbled, feeling hotter than ever now that he had a clear enough head to take everything in. 

"Lovely..." Spy sighed, letting himself lean back.

"Yeah?" He asked, feeling the weight of a foreign member in his grasp. The heat was different, the sensation on his hand was different, the perspective was different. He didn't know just how to move.

"Something wrong?" Spy asked from the pillows, his voice soft and reassuring.

"No-" Sniper huffed, "I just... Don't know what ya like." 

Spy slid his fingers down the Aussie's busy arm, "Show me how you pleasure yourself." He cooed, and Sniper didn't think his face could feel any hotter. 

Of course, Spy couldn't help smiling when the other visibly lurched at that. He never once forgot that this was a first for the gunman. There was no real technique or certainty in the things the man did that night, but just the passion with which he tried was positively enchanting. Whatever artless motions the sniper's hands fumbled with against his body, they worked with sincerity, and the absolute throbbing need in the Frenchman's cock meant he wouldn't need anything more than that alone. Just the experimental fingering on his length was spectacular, already his toes were curling with longing.

"Show me how you make yourself cum." Spy repeated when Sniper continued in his hesitancy.

Sniper flinched at the words, how indecent, "Crikey alright, okay..."

Contentedly, Spy mewed at the more confident stroke up his shaft. Tighter fingers, and a grip accustomed to wielding and reloading a heavy rifle encircled him. It was crude however, and when quick strokes remained quick strokes it became clear that most everything besides his shaft would be neglected. Spy slipped his hand down, touching and stilling the rhythm of Sniper's wrist. They locked eyes, and Spy closed his hand around the one on his dick, directing the grip up and around, twisting about and indulging the head between slow and thoughtful glides. When he deemed the sniper ready, he let go and fell back to sink into the wonderful growing tensions in his muscles. His short and quiet sounds between heavy breaths were not lost on the Aussie's ears, as he was now adjusting his decisions based upon them. Spy closed his eyes after a short while; he'd forgotten hand jobs could actually be this fulfilling. 

Sniper was listening for cues, and copying the example he'd been given. He even tested light touches to the other's balls, finding the man enthusiastic about the attention there, and thus toying with them in various feverish ways. Something about the soft, fuzzy scrotum in his palm made him... Hungry. Something about Spy's entire intimate underbelly was making him hungry. Looking up to find Spy's eyes shut and head lazily rolling to the sensations, Sniper made the choice to shift. There between the other's splayed legs he laid down on his belly, heart beating achingly fast. He didn't know if he could fit it in, but right now he just had to put Spy's cock in his mouth. The way the spy's lips parted, and the shock with which his eyes opened incited a mischievousness in the marksman, who had pressed the tip of his cock into his hot, wet tongue. The taste of him was inoffensive, even somewhat pleasant; not bad at all. A groan unlike any yet escaped the masked man, and he rose forward as if he couldn't see enough before collapsing back in a moaning heap. It filled Sniper with a well of confidence, and inspired him to try more. 

He hadn't thought Sniper would. He didn't anticipate the slide of his tongue, and certainly didn't anticipate the timid suction against his glans that followed. Hips trembling, Spy had to use substantial energy to keep from forcing his length up into the mouth he'd been kissing daily. He wanted his length to be completely absorbed in his heat and saliva so desperately, that the force he restrained in his hips came out instead in the thrash of his shoulders, the furrowing of brows, the biting of tongue, and the rigid curl of legs and toes. Biting into his knuckle when a slow tongue lapped lines up and down his cock, his breath shuddered. Somehow, though his technique was not a practiced one, Sniper found the blissful combination of stroking at the base, and suckling at the tip. Spy's eyes met Sniper's briefly, rosy face examining rosy face before Spy's eyes rolled back and his head fell into the pillow. Sniper offered a confident, throaty noise, and Spy panted back with his finger between his teeth.

"J'aime quand tu fais ça..." Spy hissed.

Sniper repeated the guttural sound, slower and more enthusiastically. He didn't know what the hell Spy was saying but the way he said it meant he was doing well.

"Sniper I'm gonna..." He panted, "Cum..." 

If the marksman hadn't been so preoccupied with keeping his teeth at bay and his bobs timed in rhythm, he would have noticed the blatant loss of verbal formality and hard slur of accent. He only gathered the point of the phrase, and the warning that he'd wind up with a mouthful of semen if he kept it up. So, since Spy made it look so easy, he'd keep it up. He felt Spy's hand dig into his hair and attempt to pull him off, but he fought against it with a wince. The onset of Spy's spasms set in, this was it, and he prepared himself to receive his new lover's first spatters of cum brought about by Sniper's own hand. It made his head swim just to think of it that way. Fingers pulling almost painfully at his hair, Sniper used his weight to keep the Frenchman's hips from driving his sizable cock down his throat and choking him. He felt the pulse of his length against his tongue, and the creamy warm spread of cum releasing in bursts as he stroked him to completion. Spy cried, and it was a beautiful, broken, honest thing. It brought a violent throb to the Aussie's own member, which laid pressing into the sheets, hardened yet again. The bitter, somewhat salted taste of semen was less pleasant than the flavor of skin, but it was far from the worst thing he'd ever tasted or even swallowed. Feverishly he lapped up and drank down the fluid as the final drops accompanied Spy's shaking and groans. Glancing up, he found the Frenchman tightly arched, feet drawn, pulling and bunching the covers as the last of his orgasmic tremors shot through him. He looked beautiful, if Sniper had to pick a word. Positively beautiful, natural and raw. This view had to be the sexiest moment in the sniper's entire life.

Sniper hummed, red faced and pulling his lips off the spy's spent erection, "Ya liked that did ya?"

"Oh God yes..." Spy mumbled behind an easy smile, his limbs at last letting him go slack into the bed. "Vous avez avalé... I can't believe it." 

"Spy you know I don't speak French..." Sniper smirked, aware it was his doing that Spy had lost his sense of language.

"Pardon, I'm sorry mon loup." Spy shook his head, he might as well have been melting with the warmth he felt all over. "You swallowed it-" He opened his eyes, "I did not expect that." 

"Just returnin' the favor darl'." Sniper purred, easing up to crawl forward over the winded Frenchman. "Wasn't hard."

There had been an internal battle for Spy in the moment, where he couldn't choose between letting the Aussie have his way and gulp down the release, or seeing it land in streaks across his handsome face. In the end, spreading his seed inside the man was delicious enough of a concept to bring him over that decadent edge. The sniper even fought back with spirited enthusiasm to get a mouthful of the stuff. Spy shuddered, what passion. He parted his lips when Sniper crawled up and dipped his head to kiss him. The taste of Spy's satisfaction still lingered on the gunman's tongue as it laved about, twisting and prodding while they pressed ever deeper. Spy petted him with satisfied palms, down his shoulders and muscular arms, down his lower back and around the curve of his bare ass. Daring to pull a moan from the other that he could devour, Spy gripped the fleshy cheeks and spread them, exposing the man's tender entrance to cool air. Moan he did, right into Spy's mouth, and the spy ate it up like a delicacy. They parted with an obscene wetness, and the sniper puffed against his ear breathily.

"Never thought I'd do somethin' like that." He whispered against Spy's mask.

"You did well," Spy smiled, "You managed to surprise a spy."

Sniper laughed, and it was a bashful, pretty thing. "Yeah? Too bad I can't brag about it to anyone."

Spy grinned, even lost in heartbeats and fire they managed to exchange their usual chatty banter.

"Say, would you mind...?" Sniper murmured, and pressed his pelvis down into the other, his stiff arousal rubbing wetness against sensitive skin.

Spy's eyebrows arched. Oh dear, how good it was to be young and energetic. "Mm did sucking my cock excite you that much?"

Sniper clasped a hand over the Frenchman's lips. "Bloody hell, you've got some mouth on ya!" He felt the muscles under his grasp tighten with a smile.

Spy pulled the palm away, "Something tells me you enjoy hearing such things."

"Ah shut it."

"You can shut me up if you fill my mouth with your thick-" spy tried to say, but was met yet again with a hand on his mouth.

"It’s already up!" Sniper fumbled, "D'ya have to be so dirty?"

"I like dirty, in the bedroom." Spy responded, pulling the appendage off his face yet again, "Dirty talk, dirty bushmen..." He reached back around to the sniper's backside, but instead of fondling, he slid a nimble finger down the cleft and prodded at the puckered entrance there.

Sniper jumped at the contact, gasping and lifting his head. He looked at Spy frantically, but the bastard only smiled smugly back at him.

"Dirty can be fun." The proud spy whispered.

"You're not gonna- with me? I thought you said I wasn't ready." Sniper stuttered, everything flushing.

"Have you played with yourself here?" Spy suddenly asked, tracing a digit around the ring of muscle.

Sniper was about to become a pile of ashes. "W-what?" He squawked, hips flinching.

"Alone, by yourself, how much have you tried?"

"I- nothin'!" He stammered, "I don't... I mean I haven't..."

"Not a single finger?"

"Well... I tried... One."

"Did you like it?"

"What is this? Bleedin’ twenty questions?" Sniper huffed, what he did alone didn't need to be an issue.

"Can I try?" Spy inquired, eyes glowing with a bright curiosity.

"What?" Sniper's heart skipped anxiously, "What if I don't like it?"

"Then I will stop."

Sniper pondered, and hoped Spy wasn't noticing the way his member twitched against him as he did. He was interested, according to his body. "How do you want me?" He sighed after a spell.

A moment of shifting left them reversed yet again with Sniper on his back, only now the masked man was at his side, lazily petting at his chest hair and pulling soft sighs with a roaming tongue and lips. It occurred to the Aussie he was sedating him, massaging, and occasionally stroking his dick with an elegant hand. Rather than question the fancy bugger, he chose to savor it. It wasn't every day that he got a bit of pampering. Spy goaded him to turn and lay on his stomach, his hands sliding under a pillow while his face rested upon it. It smelled a little of Spy's cologne now, like his skin. He watched with one eye open as Spy leaned away toward the nightstand, and pulled free two small bottles, one long and clear, and the other square and stout. He daintily picked the clear one, filled with a purplish fluid.

"What's that ya got there?" Sniper mumbled into the pillows, pelvis lightly gyrating into the bed for sweet friction. 

"Oil," Spy mused, "imported from India with over eighty rare herbs, extracted using a sacred method invented in the Middle Ages."

Sniper couldn't have rolled his eyes harder, "Alright I get it, fancy stuff ya waist yer money on-" He then yelped as Spy's hand smacked down against his bare backside.

"Why do I bother?" Spy frowned, relishing the reel of Sniper's lower half and protesting sound.

"Bloody hell, if anyone deserves a spankin' here it's you, ya mongrel!" Sniper spat, though not invested in his anger.

Spy's smirk betrayed him, and he caressed the light pink spot he'd made with a tender affection. "I'll be sure to make a mental note."

Sniper turned away, for a man so painfully proper, Spy sure was a perverse and playful fellow in bed. He had quite the lewd vocabulary as well. It wasn't a bad thing, Sniper reasoned, it was sexy to be frank, but unexpected. The scent of the oil when the spy opened it was aromatic and light, and it spread as Spy rubbed it over his hands and began working it into the marksman's shoulders. 

"I thought you were gonna-" 

"Shh." Spy interrupted.

As a well-traveled agent, Spy had picked up many things. Massages were one of them. He worked into Sniper's body, lifting the stress out of tight coils of muscle, and feeling out the curvature and ridges of the man's body between forceful grinds. Satisfied with the looseness and quieting grunts of his lover, he worked downward, kissing and scraping across the regions he'd left behind. He was a romantic by nature, hell bent on sensuality and worldly bliss that he craved to bestow upon such a worthy body. He worked briefly overall to approving purrs, so as not to lose the interest of the marksman's perky arousal underneath him. At last he reached the firmness of his ass, and took special care to spoil it. His sniper had no business wagging around a backside so fine when all he did throughout the day was sit and wait. He fondled, and rubbed circles with his thumbs as Sniper's hips began to stir and his face pushed further into the bedding. A slick hand worked its way between the fleshy cheeks, and smoothed over the curled hair and sensitive skin at his seam. He pressed into his perineum, and if his ears did not deceive him, he earned a muffled whimper as reward for his curiosity. Pressing further, he kneaded in with his knuckle and reached around to touch the waiting cock under him. Sniper made a strangled noise, delicious in every way, and made all the more delectable by the sticky precum that slicked the head of his dick and the sheets it pressed into.

"Turn, beau." Spy whispered into his ear.

Sniper shivered, and obeyed, flipping to his back. He didn't know what the strange pleasure he felt just below his anus was from, but Spy clearly knew things he did not. Clever, gorgeous bastard. Following the spy with his eyes as he put aside the tall bottle in exchange for the shorter one, his heart dropped when he realized what it was. A hearty dollop of petroleum jelly, thick and clear, sat now on the tips of his fingers. Sniper's stomach did a flip when the reality hit him. Spy was going to put his fingers up his ass. 

"It won't hurt will it?" He blurted, feeling immediately humiliated by the question. He was a trained, professional assassin; there was no logic in his fear of a little pain in the derrière.

Spy spread the lubrication over two fingers and set the tub aside on the bed with terrifying casualness. "If you do as I say, not at all." He assured.

The dilemma was that he wanted it, and yet he did not want it - the latter being purely out of his lack of what to expect. Sniper chewed his lip as Spy eased up to him and placed slow kisses to his jaw and neck.

"Now," Spy mewed, "Bare in mind it will feel strange at first." He snaked his arm downward, and bestowed kisses across the man's flushed chest as he did.

Sniper nodded, "I know that much." His heart was pounding with excited fear.

"Relax, you're in good hands cher, I assure you." Spy said with a kiss to the navel.

Sniper took a deep breath. Relaxing was something he knew how to do. He closed his eyes, furrowing when Spy kissed at his aching dick lovingly. He thought about sniping, oddly enough, and the breathing control it took to be as skilled as he was. He tensed his shoulders when slick fingers touched the dark, puckered ring. No, he needed to take it easy. Suddenly the relaxing massage he'd just received made a lot more sense, Spy really did know exactly what he was doing. He felt the first finger circle, then push. He could feel its alien movement wriggle it inward, foreign to him. But it wasn't foreign really, it was Spy's movement, the man he'd been seeing, touching, kissing, and as of recently, blowing. Remembering it was his spy made all the difference, and it didn't seem nearly as unnerving as the digit sunk in to the first knuckle. Sniper trusted the spy, he really, truly did.

He forced his lower half to go slack, fighting the buzzing need between his legs. Spy muttered something sweet sounding in French to him before planting another kiss on the frenulum of the marksman's length. Lubricated, Spy pushed further with little resistance, entering him deeper than he'd ever ventured by himself. The stretch wasn't painful, but the idea of being fingered aroused the sniper more than the action itself was just yet. Whispering encouragement and stroking Sniper's shaft between his palm and the man's own abdomen, Spy reached the depth of a second knuckle. There was the clear sensation of movements inside him as the Aussie lay there, trying to figure out what so many people seemed to like about this sort of thing. Then there was electricity, and his hips bounced, and he gasped quietly at the shock of his own reaction. Lifting his head to quickly find an answer on Spy's face, the man was still, merely smiling at him like a wolf.

Spy chuckled at the way his eyes flickered from Spy's face to the hand tucked under his groin. "My my, look what I've found!" He grinned, and moved his fingers just so.

Sniper gasped again, whatever the masked assassin found inside of him was making him jolt involuntarily. There was a gentle heat growing inside his pelvis, unlike the stimulations to his cock. Spy must have felt his tension, since he rubbed his thighs and stomach with a profound gentleness.

"How are you doing that?" Sniper gasped, his question receiving another playful touch somewhere inside.

"That?" Spy toyed, with a look so haughty the Aussie wanted to shove a pillow in it.

"Yes that, piker- Ah! What is that?" He was getting flustered, Spy would not let him say a word without an agonizing rub to that infuriatingly good spot.

"A very important asset." He grinned lecherously.

Sniper's innards were on fire. The wretched Frenchman refused to cease his attack and every subsequent rub against that spot made his reactions all the more potent. It was burning him up, soon ripping through his lower body like shockwaves. Arms raised, he gripped at the pillow behind his head, upper body swelling with the flexing of his muscles as he did. He held on for dear life and couldn't even understand why. It was all so bizarre, so unfamiliar, so invigoratingly satisfying. He hissed when Spy's finger pulled slowly away, leaving him vacant and puckering, groaning, pleadingly churning his pelvis.

"More?" Spy asked coolly as he slathered more jelly over his fingers.

"More." Sniper panted, eyes blearily observing.

"You're doing excellently, you know." He grinned.

Sniper only hummed back, and Spy took it as an impatient plea for his fingers to return. The gunman relaxed again, breathing deep like he would before aiming his crosshairs. His lungs faltered however, at the clear sensation of not one, but two fingertips lined up at his tail end. He battled his need to brace as the Frenchman began breaching him again. It seemed fine at first, until the gentle burn of stretching set in. Grunting, he shifted awkwardly, and Spy seemed to catch on quick as a whistle and stilled his pushing.

"Relax, it takes time." Spy comforted, pulling a few languid strokes along the Aussie's length.

The pleasure quickly overcame the vague soreness, and somehow, probably by reading the squeeze of his inner muscles, Spy knew to proceed. It was easy after that, with the man's hand around his dick as he wiggled further. Sniper waited for it, and waited for it, and at last Spy pressed him just right again, and he was keening. Urged on by a low, rumbling French accent, the Aussie ground down into the penetrative touch, seeking more- more electric, more fire, more fullness. This feeling grew inside him, swelling like some explosive energy deep in his abdomen. He was arching now, moaning with an open mouth and rolling eyes. He lost all sense of direction and time when skilled French fingers worked his cock harder, faster, all to the tempo of his rubbing deep inside the squirming, sweating marksman. Beyond his haggard panting, Sniper heard the velvety utterance that snapped the taut string of impending orgasm.

"Cum for me, Bennett..." 

He howled, hands and arms bending back under the pillows, head sinking deep and back curving to the sky. It was bliss. He saw stars against the black of his tightly shut eyes. He thought perhaps he was dying as a crashing rush of fluid ecstasy drowned out his ability to hear his own caws of delight. Spy was repeating something softly at him; he did not care to know what. Instead he rode those fantastic fingers into a sea that swallowed him whole. It was over too soon. He was left dazed in a pliant splay of limbs, feeling gelatinous. Every touch was amplified as Spy drew out his fingers, and released his spent, throbbing dick. Looking down, the sniper could see a generous spattering of white across his chest and stomach in the candlelight. He thought to ask if the spy had cum with him by the amount, then it dawned on him that every last drop of it was his own. He stared, hypnotized. It was a lot. 

"Spy?" He rasped.

"Yes?" The masked man crawled aside to reach for a discarded pair of underwear.

"You're magic."

"Mm- No."

Sniper weakly turned his head, wide eyed and glimmering with sweat. Spy laughed gently and wiped away the copious semen on his skin with the fabric he'd picked up. Neither of them said much. Sniper didn't know what to say, and Spy considered words to be unnecessary when hot breath and prolonged stares were enough. The spy blinked curiously when Sniper's grasp wrapped around his shoulders, and he complied with the movement of being drawn into a crushing, exquisite embrace. Fingers pulled the neck of his mask upward, and for a moment Spy panicked. Instead of getting his mask swiped away however, he was kissed. Sniper kissed that neck with all of his hidden passion, nipping with his teeth, and tasting drops of sweat. Spy could feel him suck deep, drawing blood to his skin. How darling, it would be their first love mark.

"I take it you are happy non?" Spy laughed softly, but Sniper only grunted back with a busy mouth. "You crowed like one of your terrible kookaburras." He smirked.

Sniper let go of his neck at that. "I did not!"

"I heard it with my own ears. Although I must admit you sang much sweeter."

Sniper wondered if one could die of heat stroke from blushing too hard. "I should deck you ya miserable git."

"No need to be embarrassed Bushman." Spy smirked, nuzzling into his sideburn. "It was a very alluring song."

"I'm not!" He defended, unable to exert any type of intimidating force in his state. 

"Did it hurt?" Spy asked then, and Sniper had to pause in silence to make sense of it.

"...No." He admitted, "It was odd fer a bit though."

"There are some who cannot take as much as you did." Spy said proudly, and Sniper realized he'd just been complimented.

"Guess I'm a natural." He mumbled as Spy rubbed his cheek and nose into the marksman's damp hair. 

"Natural is a fair way to describe you, I think." The Frenchman huffed happily before rolling aside to the mattress. 

"Oi, Spy?" Sniper called under his breath.

"Oui?"

"I'm glad I decided to stop by."

Spy smiled softly and beckoned with his hand, his heart melting in his chest, "Come a little closer, mon cher."

It was then that they found a rest in each other’s arms they never expected to want so desperately. Sniper, drained and pliant, curled into a comfortable spot against the rise and fall of Spy’s chest, nosing at the dark fuzz there coyly. Spy held him close as he settled, reclining into the pillows with a tired sigh.


End file.
